Читать книгу The Motor Girls on the Coast: or, The Waif From the Sea - Penrose Margaret - Страница 3

“Come inside,” Cora said, while the others looked on in amazement. Who could this strange, elderly woman be? Where had she come from? And Cora appeared to know her.

“One of Cora’s charity-cronies,” Ed whispered to Norton, who stood inquisitively near. “Come on. She knows how to take care of that sort.” The boys after putting back the autos had come on to the house.

Jack and Walter were evidently of Ed’s opinion, for they also passed into the house with not more than a glance at the woman. Bess lingered near Cora.

“We will go in here,” Cora said kindly, as she opened from the kitchen a door that led into a room used for special occasions, when many dishes were served. “Then I can have a chance to talk with you. Perhaps you are hungry?” she added.

The woman looked about her as if dazed. Cora saw that she had a face of rather uncommon type. Her deep-set gray eyes were faded to the very tint of her gray hair, and her cheeks, though sunken, outlined features that indicated refinement. Her clothes were very much worn, but comparatively clean and of good material. She wore no hat, nor other head covering.

“Yes, I am hungry, I think,” the woman said. “But I need not keep you from your friends. If you will just have a cup of tea sent in here to me.”

“Oh, they don’t mind,” Cora said, with a laugh. “My friends can be with me any time.” The other girls had gone to get rid of the grime of the fire, as had the boys.

“Very well,” said the woman. “You are so kind.”

Cora scarcely heard this for she was out in the kitchen giving some orders. She soon returned to the little room, and took a chair opposite her guest.

“How did you come to be in the barn?” she asked.

“I went in–to rest,” answered the woman wearily.

“Of course,” Cora said, as if that were an explanation. “But I won’t ask you to talk any more until you have had your tea. There,” as Nettie placed a tray of refreshment beside her, “let me give you your tea first, then you will feel more like talking.” The tea was poured when Jack entered. He looked at Cora questioningly.

“This woman was out in the storm,” Cora truthfully explained without making a clear statement, “and I insisted that she come in.”

“Why, of course,” assented the good-natured brother. “But say, Cora,” and he changed the subject tactfully. “Wasn’t it a good thing mother was not at home? She would have been scared to death.”

“Oh, I know we always have to get mother off first,” she replied. “When we are arranging a trip I count on–happenings.”

“This is your brother?” asked the woman, who seemed to have revived under the influence of that cup of tea.

“Yes,” Cora replied. “Have some of the ham. And some bread.”

A particularly sharp flash of lightning blazed through the room. The storm was not over yet. The three girls from the parlor threw the door of the pantry open, and stood there with very white faces. Even Belle, the rosy one, had gone pale again.

“Oh, do come in here,” wailed Belle. “I am so frightened!”

“With all the others near you?” Cora asked, smiling. Then, seeing the actual terror of her friends she did stand up to comply. “I suppose it was the fire,” apologized Eline. “We are especially nervous to-night.”

“Yes, do go,” begged the woman, “and when I have finished, I will show my gratitude by telling you all a very strange story. One forgets fear, sometimes, when a matter of deeper interest is brought up.”

“Very well,” assented Cora. “I will be back in a few minutes, and then we will all be primed for the wonderful story.”

“What is it?” whispered Jack in the passage-way, as the girls entered the library.

“Hush!” Cora cautioned. “I found her–in the barn.”

“The barn! Before the fire?” he gasped. “Did she – ?”

“After it was–going,” Cora managed to say. Then she put her finger to her lips.

The young folks, at least the girls, insisted upon huddling in the very darkest corner of the room.

“Don’t go near the phonograph,” cautioned Eline. “Musical sounds are very dangerous during a storm, I’ve heard.”

Then the absurdity of “musical sounds” from a silent phonograph occurred to her, and she laughed as quickly as did the others.

“Well it’s metal at any rate,” she amended, “and that is just as bad.” “Who’s your friend, Cora?” Ed asked, in an off-hand way.

“Oh, she is going to tell us a wonderful story,” put in Bess before Cora could reply. “Wait until she has finished her tea.”

“She looks like a deserted wife,” Belle ventured softly, in her usual strain of romance.

“What’s the indication?” asked Walter somewhat facetiously. “Now, do I look anything like a deserted lover?”

Cora got up and went out into the pantry again. She found the woman standing, waiting for her.

“I do not know if I was wise or foolish to have made that promise,” she said. “But as I have made it I will stand by it. I feel also that to talk will do me good. And, after all, what have I to fear more than I have already suffered?”

“We have no idea of insisting on your confidence,” Cora assured her. “But, of course, I would like to know why you went in our garage.”

“And I fully intend to tell you,” replied the woman. “Are you all young folks?”

“Just now, we are alone,” answered Cora. “We are going away to-morrow, and were finishing our arrangements when the barn caught fire.”

“I scarcely look fit to enter your–other room,” the woman demurred, with a glance at her worn clothing. “But I assure you I have been no place where there has been illness, or anything of that sort.”

“You are all right,” insisted Cora. “Come along. I am sure the girls are more frightened than ever now, for the storm is more furious.” The thunder and lightning seemed to be having “a second spasm,” as Jack put it.

A hush fell upon the little party as the strange woman entered. Even the careless one, Norton, looked serious. Somehow the presence of a gray-haired, lonely woman, in that unusually merry crowd, seemed almost a painful contrast.

“Sit here,” said Cora, pulling a chair out in a convenient position. “And won’t you take off your cape?”

“No, thank you,” replied the stranger. “I must talk while I feel like it, or I might disappoint you.” This was said with a smile, and the young folks noted that though the woman showed agitation, her eyes were now bright, and her voice firm.

“Very well,” Cora acceded. Then the woman told her strange story.

“Some time ago I was employed in an office. I had charge of the cataloging of confidential papers. I had been with the firm only a short time, when one day,” she paused abruptly, “one day I was very busy.

“A big piece of business had just been transacted, and there was a lot of ready cash in the office. It was my duty to see that the record of all finished business was entered in the books, and I was intent upon that task.”

Again she paused, and in the interval there came a flame of lightning followed by a roar of thunder.

“My, what a storm!” gasped the woman. “I’m glad I am not out in it.”

The remark seemed pathetic, and served to distract the most nervous of the girls from a fear that they otherwise would have felt.

“We are glad you are with us,” Belle ventured, as Cora hastened out into the kitchen, to make sure that all was right there.

The maids had been startled. Nettie was assuring a new girl that thunder storms were never disastrous in Chelton, but the latter had suddenly become prayerful, and would not answer the simplest questions. Assuring herself that Nettie could take care of the girl and two newly hired men, who had assembled in the kitchen, Cora went back to the library.

“Well, that day,” continued the woman, “marked my life-doom. As I worked over my books, and counted the money, I saw two men standing in the door. A young girl clerk–Nancy Ford–was nearest to them. As she saw them she screamed, and darted past them out–out somewhere in this big world, and I have never been able to find her since.”

The woman put up both hands to cover her pallid face, and sighed heavily. No one spoke. Eline had shifted her chair, unconsciously, very near the stranger, and sat with rapt attention waiting for the continuation of the story.

“Then,” went on the woman, “when Nancy Ford was gone I saw the men come toward me! I screamed, put my hand upon the cash I was counting–and then–they hit me!”

“Oh!” gasped Cora, involuntarily. “They robbed you!”

“Yes, they robbed me!” repeated the woman. “Not only of my employer’s money, but of my reputation, for the story I told afterward was not believed!”

“How dreadful!” exclaimed Bess, clasping her hands.

The boys, less demonstrative, did not interrupt with a single syllable. But they were impressed, nevertheless.

“Yes, I was discharged! I was shocked into a nervous collapse, and ever since I have been searching for Nancy Ford. Why did she run before any harm was done? Why did she flee at the sight of the men, who showed no indication of being robbers? Why did Nancy Ford not return to clear my name? I went to the hospital and was there for months. Oh, such terrible months! I was threatened with brain fever, from that mental searching for Nancy, but she never returned!”

Belle was stirred to sympathy by the recital, and, while no one saw her, brushed by the woman’s chair and slid into the gaping pocket of her cape her own little silver purse.

“My name is Margaret Raymond–Mrs. Raymond. I am a widow,” went on the woman finally, “and I am not ashamed or afraid now to have the world know who I am. I loved Nancy: she was almost like a daughter to me, and I would have trusted her with anything. But now–she has deserted me! And no one else can ever clear my name!”

“No one else?” Cora repeated.

“Some of the firm members believed my story, but it was vague and one could scarcely blame them for doubting it,” said Mrs. Raymond.

“Didn’t it look bad for the girl?” Jack asked. “She ran away?”

“Yes, it did, but a girl somehow has a better chance than an old woman,” said Mrs. Raymond sadly, though she was not so very old. “They thought she was scared into flight, and afraid to come back. Oh, when sympathy is on one’s side it is easy to make excuses! I was on my way to look for work when the storm overtook me. I went in your garage. My hat blew away.”

“We will do anything we can to assist you,” Cora declared. “Your story seems true, and we have the advantage of some leisure time.”

“And a good heart, besides brains,” the woman said emphatically. “My child, you have a great chance in life. May no misfortunes rob you of it.”

The storm had moderated somewhat. The strain of the strange story made a deep impression upon the listeners, and the young men, quick to realize this effect upon their girl friends, now proposed that they all go outside and see “what the weather looked like.”

Anxious to know the prospects for the long auto tour they were to take on the following morning, all now hurried to the side porch, leaving the woman alone.

“My, isn’t it beautiful!” exclaimed Eline. “How sweet everything smells!”

“And that little breeze,” said Ed, “will soon dry up the mud. I am glad it did not rain longer.”

“If it did,” added Walter, “we would have to load up with planks to bridge over the bad places. Can’t depend on rail fences over where we’re going.”

For some time they stood admiring the newly-made beauties of the wonderful out-doors, then Cora thought perhaps she might arrange for Mrs. Raymond to stay in the servants’ quarters over night. They had left the woman rather abruptly, she feared.

Cora asked Jack what he thought, and he agreed that the woman’s story sounded plausible, and that it was their duty to do what they could to assist her, if they could. But he did not seem very keen.

With the intention of asking Mrs. Raymond to remain, Cora left the others and went back to the library.

No one was in the room!

“Perhaps she went into the kitchen,” Cora thought, opening the door through the hallway to that room.

“Where’s Mrs. Raymond; the strange woman?” she asked Nettie.

“She did not come out here,” replied the maid. “Isn’t she with you?”

“No, we left her in the library,” Cora replied, and without further inquiry she looked down the driveway and could just see a vanishing shadow turn into the road. But it may not have been Mrs. Raymond.

“I guess she’s gone,” continued Cora to Nettie. “And I am sorry, for we wanted to keep her for the night. Well, I hope the poor creature was cheered up some. She seemed to need encouragement. We did all we could, perhaps.”

“Is she gone?” asked Bess, when they all had come in again, having satisfied themselves that fine weather was promised for the morning. “I hoped she would tell us more about the Ford girl–give us a description of her, at least. We might run across her somewhere.”

“It all seemed rather weird,” said Cora. “But really we must be on the lookout. Who knows but we may help unravel the mystery?”

“But why did the woman hurry off so?” asked Belle, as if any one present knew.

“Suppose she thought we might think she caused the fire,” Ed answered. “It looked strange for her to be in the barn at that time. But anyone could see that it was a small explosion–too much gas somewhere.”

“Well, all we know about Nancy is her name,” observed Cora. “We will have to trust to motor girls’ luck for the rest. But I love a mystery.”

“Of course,” Eline declared, “if we could have the wonderful luck to find that girl we might be able to clear the poor woman’s name. It looked to me as if the girl was in league with the robbers when she ran before they entered the room.”

“No use speculating,” Cora commented. “Better finish our arrangements. It’s getting late.”